Why I'm Choosing To Love My Body On Valentine's Day
It's almost the day. You know, that day. February 14th, otherwise known as Valentine's day. It's a day of silly cards that are passed between friends, and romantic British period dramas. It's a day of chocolate, roses, and love. So, who's my date for Valentine's day? My body.
No, you don't need to check your eyesight; you read that correctly. On this 14th day of February, I'm loving my body because, if you think about it, my body is pretty swell.
My body is patient. It has been under the weather for years and never complained. It has been stripped of abilities (that sometimes get regained) and dignity. But does it get antsy? Never.
My body is strong. It is resilient. It has bounced back from the depths of despair time and time again. It has fought to give me hope and a future.
My body is kind. I have put it through numerous surgeries. I have forced it to metabolize millions of medications. I have injected it with toxic chemicals and harsh liquids. And every time I do so, my body answers with kindness. It accepts the circumstances, it tries to succeed in these new settings.
I sometimes am ungrateful towards my body. I disregard it's efforts and goodness. I get lost in hurt and fear of the future, and forget that my body is trying with all of it's might to give me what I want.
So this year, I'm deliberately choosing to acknowledge and love (yes, love) my body. I will thank it for all of it's hard work. I will appreciate the unending devotion it has shown to me. I will love myself.
Happy Valentine's Day, y'all.